


a thing or two

by fairydustedtheory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunken Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, Future Fic, M/M, POV Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, man how do I tag the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairydustedtheory/pseuds/fairydustedtheory
Summary: Stiles gets drunk at Scott’s wedding. Drunken confessions and honeymoons aren’t only for the people getting married after all. Stiles definitely wants some for himself tonight, but nothing vanilla.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 345
Collections: Sterek Valentine Week





	a thing or two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrkgrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkgrl/gifts).



> Written for SterekValentineWeek Theme Champagne and mostly as a birthday present for mrkgrl  
>    
> It started from one of your prompt idea, I swear, it started about getting drunk at a wedding but then our conversation turned a lot more ~porn~ than expected and my brain got confused and forgot the actual prompt idea and turned it into this. I tried to incorporate some of your kinks into this, I hope I didn't completely fail because I know my own kinks got the best of me too and turned this into a Frankenstein monster of kinks, my very own Fran-kink-stein. (yes I do think i'm hilarious, also i'm probably not the first one to ever come up with that word. I'm just a lowly human.)
> 
> Anyway! Happy Birthday! (Is it weird to gift someone porn for their birthday? I don't think so *shrugs*
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://fairydustedtheory.tumblr.com/tagged/plot%20twist%20:%20i%20write)
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy this?!

The whole day had been filled with toasts after toasts, cork popping, champagne flowing. Stiles had indulged, of course, he had. His best friend was getting married. Fuck, his best friend was married now. 

It was close to midnight, everyone was still on the dance floor having the time of their life.

Except that Stiles was drunk. Another flute of champagne taken from the table top and downed in a second.

Stiles couldn’t think straight because of the booze and the emotions and the fucking big stepping stone which was seeing your bro, your best friend, getting married. 

He wasn’t wallowing in his misery though. He had planned to come here with Heather as his plus one. She was still one of the nicest girls he knew, she was still his first and that meant enough that she could totally be his plus one to Scott’s wedding. But obviously, she had cancelled at the last minute because she knew. She knew, everybody knew, that Stiles wasn’t exactly straight and Stiles’ heart wasn’t exactly free either.

And it was something he had made peace with on any other day. But today, it hit differently to be here alone and hear all the love that was shared and knowing that he didn’t have that. He wanted that.

Maybe it was the alcohol making him stupid, lose all common sense and subtlety or maybe he never really had any of those things to lose to begin with. 

Champagne tasted so good. 

He could have just focused on that for the rest of the night and then passed out in a corner of the room on some abandoned coats and jackets and called this a party to not remember. 

Flashing lights reflecting on the golden and white drapes that Allison had chosen.

Flashing lights reflecting on the blur of bodies on the dance floor. They were past the nicely choreographed dances now, they were just letting loose.

Flashing lights melding together, hazy at the edges of Stiles’ mind, only finding focus when his gaze locked on Derek’s figure in the middle of the dance floor.

Nothing to see here in the pulsing song that shook Stiles deep to his bones, nothing to see but Derek. 

He was going to pretend that the alcohol was taking off all of his inhibitions. He’d never admit he might feel just a little lonely and craving for the one thing he had been wanting for a long time. A fucking long time.

Stiles started walking. While nothing mattered, all of it felt wrong at the same time. Someone brushing against him was just the wrong someone, someone’s voice asking him shit was just the wrong fucking voice. 

Stiles was just a body, warm blood and sweaty skin. He was done waiting and if all the love and all the care and all the future gathered in this room tonight meant anything at all, he was going to get something for himself for once in his fucking life.

Derek was dancing with someone. Some random girl from another pack that had been invited because of some werewolf politics or some other BS that Stiles didn’t care about right this second.

What he cared about was getting her away from Derek, pushing her hands away from his hips and replacing them with his own. 

His hands on Derek’s skin. Nothing else, no one else.

Maybe it was the champagne swimming and dancing through his veins making him dizzy with want and need. 

Derek was almost ethereal in the dance floor lights. Or it was just the way Stiles’ glossed over brain decided to see him. 

Blinking, trying to regroup, refocus, he licked his lips, standing awkwardly in the middle of the mass of moving bodies, mouth half agape. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing.

He was drunk. Definitely. At least a little bit drunk.

Derek turned around frowning, as if he felt something was off.

Something was definitely off.

Stiles swore to himself that it wasn’t jealousy. Still, his cheeks heated up.

“What’s wrong?” Derek’s eyebrows were doing their thing

Derek was looking at him like Stiles was in distress. Maybe that was what it was. Distress and a burning horny drunken feeling underneath it. It was too much to think about.

Flashing lights still blinding and Stiles not moving. Derek still clueless as to what it all meant.

It’d be a good time to talk now.

Derek’s hands left the girl’s body all at once as he turned to look. Really look at Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t know. He wasn’t a wolf so he couldn’t know but he was sure there was a distinct smell to him. And it wasn’t champagne.

“Stiles,” was all Derek said.

Stiles was too far gone to understand the tone, the music slightly too loud and his brain still hazy.

The girl finally realized Derek’s attention had moved elsewhere. Derek noticed it too, nose flaring, before glancing back at her and then back to Stiles again.

“Sorry,” Derek mumbled.

For a split second Stiles thought it was directed at him. Derek wasn’t looking anywhere but at him. But then Derek was moving, toward him, brushing off the girl’s hand when she tried to reach to grab him.

Suddenly, Derek’s hands were on Stiles’ waist, pushing him away. 

Stiles couldn’t do anything but turn around and follow the movement, though away wasn’t what he wanted. But away was also where Derek seemed to be going so it was alright. Derek’s fingers digging into his back, pushing him along and out of the crowd.

Derek pushed him all the way out of the dance floor, all the way out of the lights and into a lonely corner, a little on the side.

Stiles was getting hard, just the feel of Derek’s hands on the low of his back. And champagne. Champagne helped. 

Stiles had always been a horny drunk. Scott could assess that, he had heard one too many confessions about Stiles’ fantasies about Lydia when they were teenagers. 

Nowadays though, his fantasies weren’t exactly about strawberry blonde beauties but about a certain tall dark and handsome. That, Stiles had tried to not confess.

Until tonight. Because tonight, Stiles was pure and unadulterated need to feel Derek closer, to feel him everywhere.

“What’s going on?” Derek’s voice only made Stiles want more.

All of Stiles' thoughts washed away. What was going on? Good fucking question. Derek leaned closer to smell him. Fuck, he must have been able to smell Stiles being horny. 

Stiles shut his eyes tightly.

“Fuck, Marry, Kill, shoot!” he said, like that made any sense. 

“What?”

“Her and me. Fuck, marry, kill. Tell me. Her or me…” Stiles drawled out. “... shit, or me,” he added when he realized he needed a third option. “Her or me or me, fuck, marry or kill. Shoot!” 

“What?” Derek repeated. Stiles had to laugh a little.

“It’d be her, I know it’d be her.” 

“Who?” Derek sounded so confused. Stiles felt a content sense of pride swell up in him. All the jealousy in the world was irrelevant because Derek didn’t even know who.

“The girl who had her hands all over you just now.”

“Uh.” Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not playing that game.”

“It’d be her.”

“I’m not about to cause a political incident because of your silly drunken game,” Derek warned, frowning like this was some very serious alpha business.

“You’d kill her. And you’d fuck and you’d marry me.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah. I know.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m saying words that make sense even if they don’t. And you just smelled me and you know I’m not exactly that drunk.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Drunk enough to tell you that I couldn’t take my eyes off you today. I couldn’t. Derek. I…” Stiles let out a shaky breath. “I listened to all the words being said and all the promises being made and every word and every promise I feel the same or even more. I feel all of that for you,” he swallowed hard, pulled his lip in his mouth to bite on it but it was too late to suck the words back in.

“Stiles.”

“Because I’m drunk I can tell you these things. It’s allowed to get sappy and disgusting like that when you’re drunk.” Stiles just couldn’t keep the words in. He failed at it so badly, he didn’t even feel bad about it. “And I’m also allowed, because I’m drunk, I’m allowed to ask you to give me all the reasons why we’re not together. Because I want to, deep down I fucking want to. And you do too. I know you do. So in the game of fuck marry kill. It’d be me. You’d fuck and you’d marry me,” he shook his head slowly, dizzy. “I know this is just a silly game because I'm drunk and I'm rambling. But Derek, I’m so tired of feeling like I can’t have this. I want this. I want a honeymoon tonight. I want to fuck your mouth until your fangs come out and I want you to fuck me until I can’t even walk in the morning. I want a honeymoon. And I know we’re not getting married. I know. But I want a honeymoon and I know that a honeymoon for us, it wouldn’t be vanilla. It’d be so far from vanilla, it’d put all the other honeymoons to shame. It’d be rough and possessive and that’s what I want. So much it kills me.”

Derek’s breath hitched. “Stiles, what are you doing?” 

“Just a silly game of fuck marry or kill,” Stiles huffed out, self-deprecating. “Only if I can’t have two things, I want at least one.”

“Stiles, more than half the people in this room heard every word of what you just said,” Derek leaned in close, lips brushing against his ear. 

Stiles shuddered at the touch. 

Everybody heard, and if they hadn’t they would all be told soon enough. 

The music seemed to fade away but only in Stiles’ ears, as everybody was pretending to still be dancing as if Stiles hadn’t just re-enacted a sappy telenovela confession in the corner of the room.

Everything felt hazy and far away, all of it dulled by the sound of his own heart rabbiting in his ears and also dulled by Derek’s body so near and taking the focus off everything else.

“They can know. I don’t care,” Stiles breathed out. “I just want you. Even if it’s just for tonight. Could you give me this?”

That seemed to be enough. Derek groaned, sounding more annoyed than fond but his hands moved to grip Stiles, tight.

Stiles didn’t even register the room spinning but suddenly they were at the door, Derek almost lurching him inside the camaro.

All the while, Derek was cursing under his breath, Stiles wanted to laugh and laugh, just now thinking about what kind of political incident could have happened or maybe actually happened.

He didn’t give a single fuck about any of it. 

As soon as Derek sat in the driver’s seat, Stiles just slumped, let his body fall and pressed all up against Derek’s side, buried his face in Derek’s neck, nuzzling the hollow of his throat. He wasn’t that drunk, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” Derek muttered.

The car parked in front of the loft, Stiles barely had the time to get a foot out that Derek was grabbing him and shoving him against the wall near the front door. 

“What are you doing?” He growled. “What are _you_ doing?”

Stiles could have thought he was angry. If he had any survival instincts at all, he could have felt the predator threatening the prey, but he didn’t have any of these instincts.

Between a blink and the next, Derek’s face was so close, so so close but not close enough, Stiles felt weak from that half inch of space between their lips.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked again, voice raspy, his breath hot in the cold night air.

What was he doing, another million dollar question. Stiles was asking for trouble maybe. 

He admittedly was used to flirting with Derek. He flirted with him countless times before. It had all been a joke for a long time until it wasn’t. It wasn’t just for laughs anymore. And now... Shit, Stiles couldn’t focus on anything other than Derek’s hands still shoved in his button down shirt. His fingers digging into his skin through the cotton, Stiles was mentally begging these fingers to touch him. 

Stiles tried to lean forward. He was going for it. He needed to kiss Derek like he needed air. 

Before Stiles’ lips even got close, Derek shoved him back into the wall, the back of Stiles’ head hitting the bricks in a thud.

“Asshole,” Stiles bit out. The wall didn’t hurt, but the rejection definitely did. He couldn’t believe Derek brought him all the way to the loft for what? For nothing?

Derek ignored him, groaned and shook his head, “Do you really wanna do this?” 

“Huh?” Stiles asked unintelligibly. His brows pulled tight, serious and almost feeling sober now. “Are you really asking me this question? I think I made it really clear back at the reception in front of all the attendees. You remember the political incident and all that? That was me telling you how much I want this. Fuck, let me...” 

Stiles slipped a hand between them all the way down to the button of Derek’s pants. He hesitated a minute, waiting for Derek to shove him back into the wall again. He licked his lips, catching Derek’s eyes tracking the movement.

Derek took in a loud and deep breath. “Fuck, Stiles. If we’re doing this -”

“Do you need me to say ‘yes please’?” Stiles whispered. “Do you need me to be fucking polite? Aren’t we past that?”

“You’ve never really been polite.”

Stiles snorted. “Will you kiss me, please? There, see, I can learn a thing or two.”

Stiles’ fingers took hold of the belt loops on Derek’s pants and pulled him flush against himself. Shit, Stiles was hard. So hard he was ready to combust. So much want, he felt dizzy with it.

Derek dropped his forehead against Stiles’, still breathing deep. Both of his hands pressed into the wall on either side of Stiles’ head. He watched him a minute before closing his eyes.

“Until my fangs come out, huh? I don’t think you really know what you’re asking here.” Derek sounded cocky all of a sudden, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Just hearing the words and imagining it made Stiles’ cock twitched. He knew Derek felt it. He wasn’t even embarrassed. His eyes rolled back and his legs felt like jelly just hearing Derek say it. 

What if Stiles had a werewolf fetish? He could. He didn’t have a werewolf fetish, he had a Derek fetish and Derek just so happened to be a werewolf and that was all there was to it. 

“God, Stiles, you smell…” Derek went to nuzzle the underside of Stiles’ throat. He mouthed at the skin he found there, teeth nipping.

It was so unbearably hot, Stiles couldn’t breathe.

“You smell good,” Derek concluded.

And of all the things, it seemed to be that one element that clicked something and now Derek’s mouth was on his. Kissing him. 

On instinct, Stiles buried both hands in Derek’s hair, holding him in case he dared try to move away, his fingers digging hard into the skin of his skull.

Derek groaned and took control of the kiss, changing the angle, slipping his tongue in Stiles’ mouth. Stiles’ dizziness had nothing to do with champagne anymore. Sparks and chills and all the good things ran down his spine. His hips jerked on their own. Fuck, he moaned at the tiniest bit of friction. He was just drunk on this feeling now, the world revolved around that kiss.

Derek sighed as he pulled back, lingering a second and sucking Stiles’ upper lip in his mouth and grazing his teeth over it. Stiles knew he wasn’t exactly quiet with everything he was feeling, noises coming out of him before he even had 

the thought of trying to stop them.

“We should take this party upstairs,” Stiles murmured. He already felt fucked out of his mind with just the one kiss but yeah… “I’m still a cop’s kid and I don’t think my dad would like to be called on his night off because his son is getting it on on the sidewalk.”

Derek chuckled as he took a small step back.

“Let’s,” he shook his head, breathing out in a shudder. 

Stiles felt a pang of pride at seeing the big powerful alpha just a little affected. Derek was staring down at Stiles’ lips, his pupils blown wide, eyes neither their usual mix of hazel and green nor their bright alpha red, just a small outside circle left. And was he actually blushing now? The sight alone felt like a dream. 

And the words coming out of his mouth were even more surreal. “Upstairs, yeah.”

Stiles was about to agree, say something along the like of ‘fucking finally’ but before he got the chance to say a word or even to unglue his back from the brick wall behind him, Derek’s lips were back on his, demanding and hungry. As hungry as Stiles felt maybe.

Stiles thought about a bed, Derek’s bed. He thought about both of them in Derek’s bed. He thought about everything they were going to do in between Derek’s sheets, both of them blurring together. He wanted Derek’s bed to smell like both of them. He would only be satisfied when the whole loft reeked of both of them, Derek unable to get rid of the smell of them for weeks. That was all he wanted.

Derek pulled him off the wall and into the building. Stiles’ hand held tightly in his own, his fingers digging in hard and possessive into Stiles’ soft flesh as if he was scared Stiles would slip away.

As soon as the loft door closed behind them, Derek was back on him, his lips pressing hot and wet against his own. 

Stiles slid his tongue between Derek’s lips, his turn to be in control, so much lust he almost felt like he was going to pass out if he even tried holding back. 

It was so incredible kissing Derek. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe something to do with kissing an older man, or kissing someone so much stronger than him, or maybe just the way their bodies seemed to fit together, Derek all sharp angles and soft curves of lean muscles. Stiles had always been very aware of how hot Derek was but it was something else to have him under his fingertips. 

They stopped to breathe, Derek’s forehead pressed against his again, Stiles staring at him but Derek’s gaze focused downward as he unzipped Stiles’ pants. 

Stiles nodded all the yeses and hummed his agreement as Derek slipped a hand along the thin cotton of his boxers. Shit.

“Until my fangs come out,” Derek smirked as he looked back at Stiles’ face. Derek’ smirk turned mocking before adding, “I have too much control for that to ever happen.”

“Oh really?” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows. “Wanna bet?” 

Derek only groaned in response. Growled, actually. Stiles didn’t have the time to analyze it all that much because his pants were being pushed down all at once, and Derek dropped to his knees. 

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed as Derek's warm lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. 

He tilted his head back, hitting the metallic door. What was it with them and vertical surfaces? He wasn’t complaining though, his cock slowly sliding deeper and deeper into Derek's mouth.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain some sort of focus. Shit, as much as he wanted to get lost in the sensation of Derek licking and sucking down his cock, hot and wet and so perfect Stiles could barely breathe with it already, he had to see, he had to look, couldn’t let himself miss anything. 

Oh but now he was looking. Derek staring up at him, his lips stretched wide around him. Stiles’ hands went to grip at Derek’s hair, pulling hard to angle his face just right before starting to fuck into Derek’s mouth. Slow for a couple of thrusts and then he was just gone, no restraint left in him.

And Derek let him. Derek welcomed it, he closed his eyes and hummed like this was the best experience of his entire life. Stiles could relate. Fuck, if he could relate.

There was something brand new happening here. There actually was no need for restraint, there was no fear of hurting him or going too far. Stiles was fucking hard and fast. Derek just took it in, each thrust, one after the other. He barely even gagged as Stiles hit the back of his throat. 

It almost felt like Derek was used to it. The thought alone made something burn bright jealousy in Stiles’ gut, imagining Derek on his knees with anyone else. Stiles fucked a little harder, wanted to erase every memory of anyone else doing this with him, to him. 

Derek opened his eyes, tear stained, looking up at Stiles, meeting his gaze and flashing them alpha red. And then Stiles was coming, moaning Derek’s name, his thrusts finally slowing down at a broken pace.

Derek pulled off before leaning back in to give him one last lick. 

Stiles let out a deep sigh, mouth still open in awe and every other feeling twirling in him.

“See, no fangs,” Derek stood up and kissed him deep. 

Stiles had already been missing the taste of Derek’s mouth, he couldn’t have enough kisses. And this time, he could taste the bitter and salty taste of himself mixed in it, somehow making it better.

It was Derek’s turn to pull at Stiles’ hair now, tilting his head, roughly but definitely much softer than what Stiles had just done to him. Derek shoved his nose against his pulse point, mouthing at Stiles’ sweaty skin. 

“Can you come again? You had two things in mind.” Derek breathed out, voice hoarse, raspy almost broken from what just happened. Stiles reveled in that sound, it would be healed soon enough. Too soon.

It was hard to think, Stiles was still high on the feeling. His fingers clawed at Derek’s back, nails digging into the shirt he was still wearing. His only thought was that he needed Derek naked. Now.

“Not yet,” Stiles forced his voice to cooperate, barely a whisper. “Not just yet. I’m only human... Before the morning though.”

Derek hummed and continued to lick and suck at Stiles’ neck in a way that was sure to leave marks. Stiles let himself be held and marked for a few minutes, squirming under Derek’s intense attention. 

He let his hand travel down and palm over Derek’s hard cock still fully clothed. Must be painful.

“Can wait,” Derek answered the silent question.

He kept holding Stiles up against the door, kissing and nibbling at his neck, making him hum and moan and squirm until it was Stiles who just couldn’t wait any longer. He just needed to feel every inch of Derek on him, in him, everywhere.

He wasn’t hard, but he was sure he could get there. Power of will and all that. Mostly he wanted Derek naked. It wasn’t fair that Stiles was the one standing there butt naked from the waist down while Derek was still the picture of composure (almost; his hair was definitely a tell and the sweet flush on his cheeks clearly showing he wasn’t exactly composed).

He hadn’t let go of his fantasy about Derek’s sheets being soaked in the smell of them.

It took only the first sign of Stiles’ hands going to the lapel of Derek’s shirt, fumbling with the buttons, for Derek to get on with the plan. 

Shoes kicked off, clothes ripped off, and Stiles was now letting his body fall onto Derek’s bed. Finally.

Derek reached inside a drawer for some lube. And Stiles felt that same pang of wrongness at the idea that Derek had that in his possession already. It was coming handy now but in some little box in Stiles’ brain or heart was the belief that Derek was only ever allowed to do that with him. No one else.

Derek tilted his head, looking at him with a strange expression on his face, like he knew.

Instead of saying anything, he just came to hover over Stiles’ body, letting out a hungry growl as he kissed him again. 

“Until you can’t even walk in the morning,” Derek said.

Stiles snorted. “I don’t think you’ve ever paid that close attention to anything I’ve said before. Who would have thought you had such a dirty mind, huh?”

“It wouldn’t be vanilla…” Derek ignored him, still echoing Stiles’ word from earlier in the night. “You sure about that? How far - I need to know how far.”

Stiles stopped then. It wasn’t the right time for jokes, Derek was so far from joking. 

“Is this your way of asking for a kink negotiation?” Stiles asked softly, hand coming up to cup Derek’s jaw while Stiles studied his expression, tried to read him and everything he was not saying.

Derek closed his eyes but didn’t say a word. That was confirmation enough. 

“Oh,” Stiles breathed out. This turned everything very real for a moment. He bit down on his lip, taking time to think about the words. Derek needed him to really be sure about what he was going to say. “I want you,” he said after a minute. That was the biggest truth of all. “Derek, I trust you.” 

Derek opened his eyes to look at him then.

“You can-” Stiles started and stopped. Shit, this was difficult to talk about. “You’d know. You’d know even before the thought of asking you to stop would even cross my mind. Der…” Stiles sighed loudly. “I’m yours to take,” he reached to soothe that little crinkle on Derek’s forehead. “Until I can’t even walk in the morning. I’m sure.”

Derek let out a small broken noise, it could have been a whine, but didn’t move until Stiles pushed at his shoulder and reached to grab the bottle of lube, pressed it in Derek’s hand and even went as far as closing Derek’s fingers over it. 

Stiles turned himself over on his stomach, naked and exposed. More than a clear invitation.

That did the trick. He heard the click of the cap opening and soon enough Derek’s wet fingers came to rub circles around his rim, making him shiver. 

Stiles spread his legs wider, pushed his ass up to meet Derek’s fingers, hoping he would get on with the plan without too much teasing. Stiles wasn’t even back to full hardness yet, too little time had passed, he wasn’t a teenager anymore and no matter how turned on he was there was just something about the human body that was betraying him right now. Not for long but Stiles wasn’t of the patient kind. 

“Come on,” he grumbled, as much to Derek as to himself.

Finally, Derek’s first finger slipped in, stretching, pumping in and out a few times, not exactly burning until a second finger joined in and then a third. Derek wasn’t wasting time with finesse, but still letting Stiles breathe deep between each, coaxing him through it until he was fucking his fingers faster, scissoring and then curling them up with every thrust inward, finding Stiles’ prostate as he fingered him.

Stiles was quickly turning into a blabbering mess. His stomach flipped hot and wanting, making him dizzy with need each time his cock brushed against the sheets. It had gotten the memo in the last few minutes.

It shouldn’t be possible for him to feel this close already but there was just something about the way Derek kept tugging and fucking and stretching him open that was so good already that it was almost enough to make him come. Stiles felt so close, but he knew it was only the start of it. 

As if to confirm his thought, Derek’s fingers slipped out all at once. Stiles couldn’t help the whimper that found its way up his throat at the loss. 

The seconds waiting for Derek to move, do something, stretched into infinity. Stiles’ heart ratcheted up, waiting, just waiting, it was killing him.

He choked when the blunt head of Derek’s cock finally pressed into him. Part in relief and part in whatever the fuck else it was that he was feeling. 

Derek brought a hand up to Stiles’ throat, pulled him back up and onto his cock in one swift motion, and Stiles gladly went along with it.

“Fuck,” Stiles’ eyes rolled back. He tried to repress a heady moan. He felt so full. It was just so much.

Derek kept rolling his hips, grinding up through the little leverage he had in this position, burying his nose in the hair at the back of Stiles’ neck, still holding his throat but not applying any pressure at all. 

Stiles felt the tip of sharp claws brush at his sensitive skin, sending a full body shudder all through him. Fuck, that shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did. He didn’t even have time to catch his breath. Derek’s free hand came to press at his back, slowly lowering him back down on the bed, chest pressed into the sheets. The claws on his throat turned back into soft human nails, and left him when his face rested on the mattress. 

Stiles could barely move, the hand on his back still holding him down as Derek started to fuck into him, tentative at first but quickly fastening the pace and pounding hard with an almost ruthless determination. Derek’s fingers digging deep into Stiles’ hips, pressing hard enough to bruise, as he slammed his cock into him again and again. 

“Fuck. Derek. You weren’t - joking,” Stiles managed to gasp. 

That might have been his last coherent thought. All the air in the room was only stardust. Each thrust sent him closer to the edge. Aching pleasure stabbing up his entire body, just taking it in. 

He vaguely registered the noises they were both making, the obvious slap of skin on skin, his louder gasps and unashamed moans, and even in the background of it all, the soft shaky rumble coming from behind him, from Derek as he fucked him into incoherence. Stiles’ body was a live wire in Derek’s hands.

Minutes felt like hours but also like no time at all. What was even time?

“Stiles,” Derek snarled behind him. The hand on his back released its pressure. “Stiles,” he called him again, voice raspy, breathless but also gentle. 

“Yeah?” Stiles’ mind recognized his name but other than that, not so much. He was pretty sure he said something more, something about _please, yes, fuck, more_ but it also could have been nonsensical noises coming out of his mouth _._

He buried his face in the sheets not really wanting to hear himself or anything else. Derek just picked up the pace again, that was a good enough response to Stiles’ plea.

After that, the world just stopped turning. Nothing existed but the lust and the feel of Derek’s cock inside of him and his hands on his skin. Derek’s thrust fucked in just the right way, making Stiles shout as he hit his prostate.

He was so close, so close, he just needed a little more and Derek was giving him all the more he had ever been able to imagine. He was so close, Derek wrapping his body over Stiles’ back, pressing his forehead between Stiles’ shoulder blades, breathing hot over his sweaty skin, snapping his hips into him.

Fuck, Stiles just about to -

“No,” Derek said.

He pulled out suddenly. 

“NO!” Stiles cried out, whimpering at the sudden emptiness he felt. He almost wanted to cry, he wanted to actually cry. Fuck.

Derek’s hands brushed softly down his back as he growled something Stiles couldn’t understand. 

Derek flipped him over, ungracefully, Stiles being flopped on his back, one of Derek’s hands on his face, forcing him to look at him.

“Not yet,” Derek growled again, urgently. 

Stiles felt a hand cupping his balls, pulling at them slightly. He hissed feeling so over-sensitive.

“Not yet,” Derek said again.

Stiles could only whimper, Derek leaned down to kiss the sound right out of his mouth. He pulled one of Stiles’ legs up over his shoulder and then the other, bending Stiles’ in half as he kissed him, filthy and wet. 

He pushed back in, deeper, as deep as he could go and started fucking again, slower, almost pulling out each time and snapping his hips to thrust back in, all the while he was still kissing Stiles, thrusting his tongue in while Stiles tried to kiss back but mostly moaned and gasped and maybe even screamed.

Stiles felt stretched open, exposed and fucking wrecked, his hands only finding something to hold on to now, buried in Derek’s hair. 

The muscles of his thighs started burning, trembling, before Derek let them slip from his shoulders and guided them to rest over his hips. He collapsed onto his elbows, bracketing Stiles’ body, their chests pressed together, skin burning hot, sizzling, like a wildfire that could never burn out.

Stiles was still trembling, it wasn’t just his legs after all, it was all of him and a little of Derek too. Both of them shaking and panting.

Derek’s face pressed against the side of Stiles’ neck, his hot breath damp and shaky. Stiles wasn’t imagining all the soft broken noises falling out of Derek’s mouth, just below his ear like a secret. 

Stiles’ throbbing cock kept brushing and bopping against Derek’s stomach, heavy and painful with how much Stiles needed to come now.

Derek finally wrapped a hand around him, smearing the precome with his thumb, stroking him once, twice, three times until Stiles choked out a silent shout as he came in between them. 

Stiles was beyond any word now, the pleasure ringing in his ears, in his head, all the way down to the tips of his toes.

In a few more thrusts, Derek muffled a cry as Stiles felt him coming in hot spurts inside of him.

They breathed, just breathed for the longest time. Stiles felt like his own body didn’t belong to him anymore, like he was floating up in the clouds, going to explode and poof into dust.

Only, Derek’s hands were still here on him keeping in on Earth. Derek kissed little closed mouthed kisses down Stiles’ neck, his hands softly caressing his sides and his ribs, coming to rest over his heart, feeling it trying to break the ribs holding it in. Stiles was still shaking against Derek’s gentle fingertips. 

“So good, Stiles,” Derek murmured, in between tiny kisses. “So good. You did so good.” 

“Uhhh,” Stiles couldn’t form words, couldn’t even form thoughts. Just weightless. 

Stiles whined when Derek moved off of him, so wrong when his hands weren’t on him anymore. He felt the bed dip as Derek got up, he heard water running from the tap in the bathroom and luckily Derek was already back. 

“Shh, come here,” Derek’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, pulled his head up a little, and brought something cold to his lips, a glass of water Stiles realized. “Slowly,” Derek instructed. 

Stiles opened his mouth, let the cold water in, soothing his dry throat, droplets falling off the corner of his lips and down his neck. He shivered. 

“Take it easy,” Derek murmured, helping Stiles sit up.

“Hm…”

Derek caressed his cheekbone until Stiles could focus enough to let his eyes flutter open. He brushed the few strands of hair that were stuck to Stiles sweaty forehead.

The look on Derek’s face was so fucking raw that Stiles almost had to close his eyes again.

“Let me clean all of this up and we’ll sleep, okay?” Derek’s hands were still rubbing slow circles into Stiles’ skin, his neck, between his shoulder blades and down his spine. So soft. It felt like the whole world was only Derek’s hands, but also like maybe Derek’s whole world was held in his hands.

“‘Kay”

Stiles let himself be manhandled, he couldn’t have helped even if he had wanted to, his limbs slowly feeling like they reattaching to his body but definitely not responsive just yet. Until he couldn’t even walk in the morning, that was exactly what he asked for, fuck, he hadn’t realized it would be like that, like all of him would belong to Derek in that one instant and more. He grimaced as he felt himself getting cleaned, grimaced again when Derek came back to cover them with a sheet, the texture not feeling exactly right until Derek’s body came back to press against his back and pulled him close.

“So good, Stiles,” Derek breathed out again.

It was all silent for a moment, but for the soft ruffle of sheets of their bodies trying to align perfecting and mold into one another.

Derek’s voice was gentle and tender when he finally spoke, “For the second thing...”

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up though his eyes stayed closed, he wasn’t asleep just yet. The second thing, yeah the second thing had been amazing. A+ job, wonderful, stunning, spectacular, mind-blowing, all the good adjectives.

“For the second thing,” Derek said again as if he was gathering his thoughts. “You’re gonna have to wait for me to propose.”

“Uh?” Stiles’ voice cracked. What even?

“Fuck, marry, kill, remember?” Derek mumbled, burying his face in the nape of Stiles’ neck, nuzzling at the sweaty hair. “I’ll choose you for two things.”

“Yeah…” It made no sense still.

“I’ll propose when you least expect it,” Derek was still saying words. 

“Wha-” Stiles smiled because even if the words made no sense to him, he still liked hearing them. A lot. 

“You’re right about all of it.,” Derek’s arms tightened around him. “There’s no good enough reason. Being scared isn’t enough. And I felt the same way today. All the promises, all of it, Stiles, for you.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, barely audible. “Saw you watching.”

“I’ll give you all the honeymoons you want, vanilla or not,” Derek added like an afterthought.

Stiles beamed, “I’ll hold you to that.”


End file.
